


Hide Away on America Day

by SilverMyfanwy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Fireworks, Flashbacks, Fourth of July, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Dogs, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Twitter, Walmart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMyfanwy/pseuds/SilverMyfanwy
Summary: The Fourth of July is supposed to be the best day of Captain America's year.In truth, it's one of the worst.





	Hide Away on America Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was a difficult fic to write.  
> PTSD sucks and any celebration that involves flashing lights or loud bangs is hell.  
> I wrote this to highlight how hard it can be for people with PTSD, particularly veterans or survivors of gun violence, on days when these events take place.  
> Maybe think twice about having fireworks or going to a firework show in future.  
> (They're also really bad for animals and farmers).  
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> FLASHBACKS, PANIC ATTACKS, PTSD.

It was the end of May.

Steve and Sam had gone into a Walmart in Oregon. Tony had given them a list of things he wanted for making explosives for their current mission and $100 for snacks. They received some rather odd locks when they picked up bug spray, all the tin foil in the store and 6 packets of Doritos.

“Steve, look!” Sam pointed to a display stand full of red, white and blue bunting. “It’s for You Day.”

“It’s not Me Day.” Steve sighed. “Fourth of July. Mm.”

“Yeah, I don’t like it much either anymore.” Sam sighed too. “Let’s get the rest of the stuff.”

-

No one had told Steve that there were going to be fireworks at the gala. His stomach twisted slightly when someone mentioned it, but he just gripped his champagne flute tighter and carried on smiling.

People started to gradually move out to the balcony. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tony excusing himself and heading in the direction of the bar. Most of the people at the gala had gone out to the balcony by the time Steve got close to the doors.

The first firework went off.

Steve didn’t even see it; the sound alone making him freeze and the flute shatter in his hand. A second firework went off and Steve turned and walked away as everything around him blurred and the noise of the firework sounded in his ears again and again.

Some sort of instinct must have kicked in and he found himself standing in the bathroom, clutching the edge of a sink, shaking and whimpering. He lost all sense of time and stayed there until he stopped shaking and the tears dried up.

Nat walked in and sat on the counter. “Fireworks get you?”

Steve nodded. “This- this has never happened before. I haven’t seen fireworks since before the war.”

“Go home, have some sugar, go to sleep.” Nat advised. “You alright?”

Steve hesitated, and then, with his voice breaking, asked: “Can I have a hug?”

Nat gave him a long, tight hug and he sobbed into his shoulder. “Oh lapushka. Lapushka.”

-

When the 4th of July arrived, Steve went to his room for the night an hour before dark. When dark came, he crawled under the bed and pulled a blanket over his head.

Then the long, long night began.

-

The first set of fireworks- three consecutive loud bangs- had scenes of mine explosions going off in Steve’s mind. He whimpered and clutched at the blanket he had put on the floor, though he only felt the cold, hard edges of his shield rather than the soft felt he was really holding. His eyes glazed over and the memory became stronger than reality. Sweat trickled down his forehead as it continued and as it ended, the first sound he became aware of was his own panting as he got his breath back.

He wiped his forehead with shaking hands and a corner of the blanket, and prepared himself for the next round of fireworks.

-

Steve lay under the bed, still quivering occasionally, and began to feel genuine fear at the thought of getting up to fetch a bottle of water. His throat was dry, hands clamming and maybe the water would make it easier to breathe.

Maybe.

He pulled himself out from under the bed and walked on shaking legs to the kitchen. He took a bottle off a shelf and his heart started to hammer. He checked over his shoulder, quite why he wasn’t sure, and prayed for the water to flow faster out of the tap so he could make it back to bed before the next round of fireworks went off.

-

He didn’t make it back to bed.

Another firework- a whistling one that lasted far too long to be morally correct- went off and he dived under a desk, hands over his head. The water bottle rolled along the floor, forgotten. Steve waited for the fireworks to stop and found himself too scared to move when they did.

Then Sam appeared. “Hey buddy. How you doin’?”

“Not great.” Steve croaked.

Sam crouched down next to the desk and held out a pair of earplugs. “These are for you. Tony made them, he says they should help. He was bringing them to you but then the fireworks started and… He struggles with them too.”

“Is he ok?”

“Mr Stark is with Ms Potts. She is looking after him.” JARVIS reported.

Steve took the earplugs. “You doin’ ok?”

“I’m fine.” Sam assured Steve. “I’m fine. You put these in. Do you need me to stay?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then get JARVIS to get me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thanks Sam.” Steve smiled weakly and Sam left the room.

Steve put the earplugs in. He could still hear, partially, but not as much as before.

He curled into a ball and prayed for a deep, deep sleep.

-

Steve fell into a state of delirium in the partial silence. He was almost asleep when a firework went off horribly close to the tower.

Everything went grey.

His skull felt like it was closing in on itself.

His flesh was burning, the air was freezing and his insides were tying themselves in knots.

He clutched his head and sobbed.

-

The rest of the night was a constant torment. There were tears and there was terror and by 2 am, when the fireworks still hadn’t stopped, all Steve wanted was to just make it through the night, by hook or by crook, because that felt like all he was going to be able to do.

-

_Many months later._

It was Wednesday, it was cold and there was hardly anyone at the training centre.

Steve sat in the waiting room with Sam. “I’m scared.” he whispered.

“Of what? You’ve already met her.”

“It feels real now.” Steve paused. “But I- I can’t wait, either.”

The door opened, Rosa came out and Steve forgot all his fears as she bounded into his arms and started licking his face.

-

About a month before the Fourth of July, a large sign went up in one of the many windows of the tower. It was red, white and blue, with stars and stripes but not like the American flag. It read ‘Combat Veterans live here. Please be courteous with fireworks. [www.militarywithptsd.org](http://www.militarywithptsd.org)’.

The media outlets went mad for it.

Tony got asked about it at a press conference- why he was still allowed to do press conferences Steve wasn’t entirely sure- and he acknowledged that though there was a fireworks ban in New York, the sign was for the governor and the rest of the country to take notice of. “Nearly everyone living in that tower is a combat veteran. Most of us have PTSD and for us the fireworks going off is like hell on earth. It’s the same for every other veteran in the country. The people who suffer from this are the people who’ve suffered too much already. The laws need to change and they need to change now.”

-

Steve and Bucky were watching the news when the story came on.

“Apparently there may be a firework shortage for this year’s July 4th. Entire shipments of fireworks have been bought from factories all across America and from the companies that ship fireworks here. They’re all being bought by a mysterious buyer, we don’t know who they are or what they’re doing with the fireworks, but Homeland Security say that there is nothing to worry about. But there is one thing we know folks, and that is that you’re going to need to get your skates on for fireworks this year!”

The newsreader moved onto another story. Steve felt Bucky turn and turned with him.

Tony was standing behind them, grinning mischievously at the TV.

“Is it you?” Bucky demanded.

Tony winked and walked off.

Steve and Bucky shared a look.

“It’s him.” Bucky said firmly. “It’s definitely him.”

-

Despite the firework shortage, there were still fireworks going off in NYC on July 4th.

Steve managed okay for the first two, stroking Rosa’s sides with trembling fingers.

Then the third one went off and he _screamed_.

-

An hour later, Steve found himself sitting behind the sofa with Bucky, the dogs, a laptop playing Brooklyn 99 and two pairs of headphones, which were sound blocking for regular humans but Steve and Bucky could still hear slightly through them.

The laptop was balanced on Steve’s lap, Rosa lying next to him. Bucky was holding his hand and stroking his service dog, Angel. They both felt terrible, and looked it, but occasionally they’d manage to smile at a joke or not freak out and break something when a firework went off.

It was hell, rather than hell _avec_ glass to sweep up the next morning.

-

Steve Rogers @Steve_Rogers   3h

So 4th July sucks. @TonyStarkOfficial’s Netflix is helping. Also, @nbcbrooklyn99.

-

Donald J. Trump @realDonaldTrump 43mins

Today- on this great day, we celebrate Truth, Justice and the American Way! Happy 4th July! USA! #proud2bamerican

-

Steve Rogers @Steve_Rogers  40mins 

Replied to @realDonaldTrump

  1. Like you know anything about truth.
  2. Like you care about justice.
  3. Celebrating the American way seems to mean terrifying veterans and survivors of gun violence and putting those with photo-sensitive epilepsy at risk.



Sounds about right to me.

-

Steve Rogers @Steve_Rogers    20mins

PTSD sucks.

While u r watching fireworks, we’re having panic attacks and flashbacks. You sure know how to treat your ‘treasured heroes’ NYC.

-

By the time the fireworks ended, Steve had cried three times, six shots had been fired, Nat had locked herself in the air vents, knives had been thrown and Clint had moved into the kitchen cupboards. Bucky had sworn vengeance on everyone ever, Bruce had curled up in a corner and stayed there, Tony had his lawyers working on a potential law change and Pepper had sobbed for an hour after they all fell into a fitful nightmarish sleep because every wince, flinch, tremble and glazed-over look had her heart breaking into a million pieces.

-

“We’re ok.” Steve breathed a sigh of relief when he woke up bathed in sunlight the next morning. He turned his head to smile at Bucky, who was also just waking up, and squeezed his hand. “We’re ok.”

And that year they were; but there were others who weren’t, and there would be years when they wouldn’t be.

But for now.

“We’re ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> The website in the fic is real! Go check it out.  
> I'm silvermyfanwy on Tumblr, I put updates on my writing there, amongst other things.


End file.
